Skyfall
by Feathers from Orion
Summary: This is the end/ Hold your breath and count to ten/ Feel the earth move and then/ Hear my heart burst again./ In a world where the rebellion failed, Belle Dicen of District One becomes a tribute in the 80th Hunger Games in place of her deaf and mute twin. Follow Belle as the navigates the expectations of a career girl, the Hunger Games, and a part of her heart she thought long dead
1. Sins of the mother

A/N: Hi all! This is an AU, where Katniss died after getting shot by the man in District 2, and the rebellion fell soon after. This story will navigate through my OC's, Belle, experience in the Hunger Games. This is my first non one-shot, so I'm hoping you will bare with me as I attempt to navigate the challenge of writing. Some of the chapter titles will be taken from songs. So, please, enjoy your read and let me know what you think. Also, I have created a tumblr account where I will post quotes, pictures, etc. The url is lorinda-writes-fanfiction dot tumblr dot com. You have to remove the spaces and place a period where it says dot.

Disclaimer: I don't own Skyfall by Adele or Skyfall by whoever owns the James Bond movie franchise. I also don't own The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins. I do, however, own whatever you don't recognize, such as OC's. I have rated this T (because it sure isn't K) due to language but in later chapters, the warning may go up to M. I'll warn you before such an occurence. Also, this is unbeta'd. If you would be interesting in betaing for me, please shoot me a message THROUGH THE TUMBLR. Thank you, and enjoy reading!

* * *

I wake up to chirping birds, sunlight filtering through the white, slightly moth eaten curtains, and my nephew Chime laughing. The first thought in my head is that today is much too nice a day for what will transpire. The Reaping- where two children from every district in Panem will be sent to their deaths. My second thought is that I hate them all; The Capitol, District 13, even the Mockingjay. She just had to go and get herself shot in District two, didn't she? And Peeta Mellark may as well have been shot as well, because everytime he appears on TV the look on his face just screams _broken broken broken_.

Districts 1, 3 and 8 were the first to rebel. 12 and 11 soon hopped on board, at least until 12 was burnt to a crisp. And once Katniss Everdeen died, the rebellion was killed in under a month; just in time to put our city square back together for the 76th reaping. In the end, it was just as President Snow said; underneath all the fire and flames, Katniss Everdeen was just a girl who couldn't even save herself.

Things slowly started to return to a state of semi-normal. Wages were cut, hours extended, quotas raised. And the champions of change were hung- my mother, my uncle, my oldest sister when she tried to revive it a year later, when Chime was a year old. Conveniently afterward, most of the children of the rebels were reaped.

Despite District 1's status as a career district, the only tribute we've had return was a 15 year old boy from the 76th games. District 2 has won two out of the three past games since Sage, with a kid from 10 taking us all by surprise last year. It's been discussed in recess yards and factory break rooms that the Gamemakers are taking special care to torture those from District 1- pockets of acid geysers, 77th. Razor rain, 78th, body invading fungi, 79th. The lord only knows what sick surprises they have in store for us this year.

I know it's messed up to hope we have a fighter this year, but I do. The Capitol has tried to make us quit training our tributes, but so many of our parents, teachers and victors have spears, swords, maces, bow and arrows in their basements that they soon gave up. I'm sure this doesn't help our tributes in the eyes of the Gamemakers, still defying the Capitol, but everyone in this district was used to living in luxury and people aren't adjusting to near starvation very well.

It is Chime's second peal of laughter that gets me out of bed. His mom, Bloom, used to laugh in that same all out way before the Capitol cut off her air supply. I plod down the stairs to see my twin, Bea, signing to Chime and making silly faces at Dad's back. It makes me smile, glad she's coming back to her old self. I sit down, ignoring the creak of the old wooden chair and sign good morning to Bea. She lost her voice and hearing in her right ear when the Capitol bombed the factory she worked in. Bea was only a hundred feet away when a palm-sized piece of shrapnel hit her throat; the doctors say if she had been any closer it would have almost cut her head clean off. Even the idea causes my heart to clench.

"Morning, dear." Dad leaves the stove and puts our breakfast down, sliding into the chair opposite of me on our round table. I just stare at the oatmeal, only giving a small thought that sugar would make this so much better. But we can't afford sugar now. We can only afford the basics, and barely even that. I know that in actuality I should eat- unwise to let food waste- but I can just glare in contempt at the offending oats.

After finally eating a few bites, I take Chime to get cleaned up, having showered last night and knowing Bea showered early this morning. The house I grew up in used to have four bathrooms, and gave me my own room. But after the failure that was the second rebellion, we simply couldn't afford the house payments and ended up moving into Mom & Dad's assigned home. It used to be only the poorest of the poor that lived in the generic, white clapboard houses that filled the Brooks, which is something of a joke since the little streams that criss-cross the neighborhood are filled with factory waste. Now I call this toxic place neighborhood, just as I call the three bedroom, one bath house home. Most of our neighbors are newly married couples, as this is where most newlyweds live until they can afford a down payment. However, over the past four years, the sound of children playing and old people calling for quiet have slowly invaded the neighborhood.

I knock on the bathroom door to let Chime know that I'm coming in with his reaping outfit. I open the door to the sight of him almost drowning, attempting to rinse his blonde hair with one arm and a cup. This happened last time, and the time before that, and the time before that. Chime is as independent as Bloom was. "Need some help before you drown yourself, little minnow?" He glares at the yellowed tile that surrounds the bath and growls out a "yes". Poor baby. He'll be happy as a dragonfly once he gets that cast off his arm.

That should teach him to get into fights with other, bigger boys.

Once he's as washed as he's like to get in this bath tub (note to self: vinegar scrub bathroom at next possible opportunity) I help him into his khaki pants and sky blue shirts, a color I love on him because it brings out his same colored eyes. As I button the last button he mumbles a sentence that breaks my heart into pieces tinier than I thought possible. "Are you going to have to leave me like my mommy did?"

I am so astounded I have to sit back on my heels and stare incredulously at his face that betrays pain he shouldn't know. How sick is it that we live in a world where even a child knows that this day means death and destruction? How sick is it that he is so afraid of losing the only mother figure he knows to the people that took the one he didn't?

The shock wears off and I have to bite my tongue and think angry thoughts so I don't cry. If I start crying now, I'll never stop. But what could I possibly say that would make this okay? That since this is mine and Bea's last year in the reaping, it's the Capitol's last chance to punish us and they won't let one of us go unscathed because his grandmother, my mother, was one of the heads of the rebellion in their beloved district? And it sure as hell won't be Bea in that arena, she's too fragile. I have dreamt variations of this nightmare since Sage Hazelwell won.

In the end I can only take his hand, heartbreakingly small, in mine and give a small amount of reassurance. "Chime, no matter what happens tonight, I know that you know I love you. Even if I don't come back I will always be right in here. I love you like you're my son." I poke the area over his heart for extra effect and he giggles, pain from his eyes gone. I'm glad this tragic moment is over because there is a hot ball of something like pain and fear lodged in my throat, and I release him to Bea without a thought, knowing they'll be playing with that damn block set he loves so much and that she loves to indulge him in.

Sitting on the twin bed in the room Bea and I share lays a little yellow sundress, with navy blue flowers and matching sandals. Bea was wearing a matching one, but on hers the flowers are green as are the sandals. I put it on, grateful for the drawstring that bunches up around the middle because I've lost a lot of weight since I wore this for last year's reaping. It's almost indecently baggy in the chest area (where I've also lost a lot of weight) and I consider stuffing one of my old bras with socks. I contemplate fighting the blonde curls that both grace and terrorize my head, but then Dad yells that it's time to go so my decision is made. I give a shrug in the mirror and run to the stairs, but have to run back to my room to grab my dragonfly necklace.

It's mostly wood, but inset in each of the four wing areas are four gems- diamond, sapphire, topaz, opal. Dad had necklaces made for all of us right before the rebellion; a swan for mom, a butterfly for Bloom, a dragonfly for me and a bee for, well, Bea. Each gem represented one of his girls, he told us. Diamond for mom, sapphire for Bloom, topaz for me and opal for Bea. And when Chime was born, my dad had another gem added in each, mine in the tale- a lovely little green piece of peridot. And after Bea and I pestering him, he finally added on a ruby to represent himself. Once my necklace is secured, I rush to join my family in the foyer. I can see Dad starting to worry about us being late.

* * *

On our way to the Reaping, we talk of matters but everything at hand. We talk about how Dad has once again been passed over for a promotion, how Bea's design was chosen for a new salad plate pattern at the Chinaware factory, how Chime's class is learning about the Dark Days. And then we're at the city square, where the Capitol carries out its yearly injustice and hung those that dared try to escape them. Where I witnessed my mom, uncle and sister hung at the ripe age of 13.

Bea and I hold hands as we stand in line. As I get my identity confirmed via finger pricking, I imagine shoving the spear that is in my basement in the Peacekeeper's gut. He has that District 2 look about him, and his sneer is the most annoying thing I've dealt with all day. It takes all my control not to run for my crossbow when the same Peacekeeper grab's Bea's wrist a little too hard. "I asked you what your name was, sweetheart." He snarls. I push her behind me and put all my loathing on my face. "Her name is Bea Dicen. She can't talk for herself, she's mute." He just leers at me, and I don't miss the way his eyes run over our bodies, like he's hoping we're one of those night girls that pop up more and more often because they have no other way to feed their family.

Bea and I are finally dismissed after he pokes her (too hard, I feel) with the needle and is checked in. Once we're finally away, I mutter to Bea, "Oh, what I wouldn't give to turn him into one of those training dummies so I could shove my sword right up his…"

"Hey guys!" Star pushes and shoves through a group of 14 year olds to get to us. We've all been best friends since first grade, when I chased away and threatened a bunch of boys who pushed her down with a dull, training sword and Bea got her a bandaid. Good times. Bea graces Star with a smile and I speak for both of us, "Hey. Where's Satin? And Ara, for that matter." Ara is our other best friend, who we adopted around 4th grade. Satin is Star's boyfriend of two years. They're cute and absolutely disgusting sometimes. "Satin's with his little brother. It's Glam's first reaping. As for Ara…"

"Here I am!" Ara shouts, sounding out of breath, as she screeches to a halt before bowling us all over. "Here I am." She repeats, hand on her nylon clad knees. Looks like her mom finally managed to wrangle her into a dress for her finally reaping. "Did any of you have trouble with the red headed monkey in the Peacekeeping suit? He actually had the gall to suggest that I meet him outside his barracks tonight, so I told him…"

"Hopefully anything that won't get you in trouble." Star and I give her a pointed glare; Ara has a way of getting into mischief almost ninety-nine percent of the time. But she usually doesn't get in too much trouble, because her Dad is the factory foreman of the Diamond factory. "As for your question, yes, I did. And so did Bea. It took all my power to not run home and get my knives…" I trail off threateningly. Bea rolls her eyes, Star just raises an eyebrow and Ara gives me a speculative look and starts to say something, only to be cut off by the trumpets announcing the arrival of our escort.

Asterisk Lemons has been the escort of District One since the second rebellion. Rumor has it the Capitol felt our last one, Oddette Hones, had the potential to be a 'rebellious influence on the Capitol elite' and had her subsequently executed. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with her skin-tight outfits anymore, though I empathize with her family.

This year, Asterisk is wearing a white suit that looks as though it's been splashed with gold paint. His hair is a light purple, much lighter than last year's, and it looks like he had more silver inlaid tattoos on his face. As far as looks go, he's pretty tame for a Capitolite.

"Hello, District One! We're here to send off our champions to this year's 80th Hunger Games! And now, Mayor Engins has something lovely to read to you." Yeah, lovely my ass. Mayor Engins was another after-rebellion replacement. Our old one, Mayor Oxson, supposedly died of old age, but no one really believes it. Where Oxson was old, in his 80's, Engins is young and powerful. Personally, the man is one of the reasons that I haven't attempted another revolt in the past years. But I have Chime to think off, and if we're being honest, Bea's not exactly in that mothering mental state needed to take care of a six year old boy.

Star, Ara, Bea and I whisper quietly about the rumor Marble Phosphane was planning on volunteering this year while Mayor Engins reads The Treaty of Treason in a slightly too gleeful tone. The Phosphanes are big Captiol and Hunger Games supporters. His Dad and Mom are both victors, and this is his last year.

We finally quit talking, unwilling to face the wrath of the Peacekeepers, when Asterisk gets back to the microphone. "First off, there has been a change of plans. Instead of Brawn Noners mentoring this year, due to unforeseeable health issues, Sage Hazelwell will be taking his place. Margery Gold will still be mentoring, however. And now, on to the reapings! Let's get boys first, shall we?" Asterisk reaches into the boy's bowl, but I am lost in memoryland.

_"Hey! I hadn't seen you at the meetings before!" I turn around to see the most beautiful fourteen year old boys ever. His chocolate hair curled temptingly and all I wanted was to wrap one around my fingers. As he approached me, I saw that his eyes were a lovely almost olive green. He was beautiful- I think my heart was melting. Bloom said this was how she felt whenever she was with Chime's father. When he got close enough, I reached out my hand, desperate to know his touch. "Hi. I'm Belle Dicen, Breeze's daughter." He smiled a pearly smile and shook my hand. "Sage Hazelwell, Thyme's son, fourteen today, fifteen tomorrow." I giggled, and internally berated myself, saying that if I ever wanted a chance with this older boy than I needed to act the older girl. "So what brings you to these meetings?" He asked, stepping closer as though he was afraid I might whisper the answer. I spoke out in what I hoped was a confident tone, "It's the first one I've been able to make. The meetings since we've become… active… have all conveniently been scheduled when I'm in school, or during my shift at the makeup factory." He grinned again and my heart flopped. "I understand completely," and then someone, presumably his Mom, called his name, "hey, I gotta go, but I hope to see you around again." He gave me one last smile, this one with dimples, and walked out the front door of the house we were using to meet in. Oh, I can't wait to go tell Bea! I thought to myself… _

"And our male tribute is Lexon Calhoon!" Asterisk roared out. I felt my breath catch and my hand grasped Bea's, squeezing for what comes next. A thirteen year old boy made his way to the stage and shook Asterisk's hand. I'll say this for the kid, his face was blank, almost bored, and the only thing that could give away how nervous he is the way he's tapping his fingers against the side of his khaki pants. I think I recognize him as a kid that's lived in the Brooks his whole life.

Asterisk walks over to the bowl that contains my name, and Bea's, twenty-six times each. If we had started taking tesserae any earlier than we did at 14, we would be entered 36 times. Asterik reaches in and pulls out a name. And even though I thought had prepared myself, and hoped against hope that the Capitol would decide we had been punished enough, he still calls out the name, "Bea Dicen!"

I fall to my knees, unable to breathe, and unable to let go of Bea's hand as she tugs to get to the isle, which will lead her to the stage, which will lead her to the Hunger Games. Finally, I let go, choking out a strangled, "I love you" and watch as she walks to the stage in her matching dress. How am I going to handle being away from my twin? We've never been apart, not even for sleepovers.

I look at one of the many screens that are temporarily hanging on store shops and watch her walk in a dignified manner to the stage, not seeming to notice the tears on her face. I feel my heart harden as she walks up and shakes Asterisk's hand. I get up, scrape my knees off, and wipe away the last few tears. Now I'm more angry than pissed. "Do I look like I've been crying?" I ask Ara harshly, my tone still sort of choked sounding. She shakes her head, looking alarmed, as I pull myself together. "No, tell me you're not." Ara growl-whispers, her hand wrapping around my arm and leaving no doubt that it will bruise. I just look at her with a vapid expression, "Oh, yes, I am. I have to. And you know it." I take a deep breath as Asterisk calls out for any male volunteers, and start walking towards the isle. Then he asks for female volunteers and I'm sprinting to the isle, getting there and yelling, "I volunteer as tribute!" I repeat it again firmly, a second time. I don't want them to not notice me.

Asterisk beams at me and gestures to the stage, "Fabulous! There's the ol' District One spirit! Oh, how marvelous, how exciting! Now, darling, what's your name?"

I reply in a calm manner that completely masks what I feel, "Belle Dicen."

"How old are you, dearie, and did you say Dicen? Are you related?"

"I'm 18, Asterisk, thanks for asking. And yes, Bea is my twin. Sorry, sis," I turn to her, give her a hard look and then wink at her, "looks like it's too late for your chance." I elbow her as if this is all a giant joke. Asterisk laughs, and Bea rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. As she is dismissed off the stage, I see her raise an eyebrow at me, which is really quite miraculous considering the amount of tears running down her face. I lose track of her once she rejoins the crowd and then Asterisk grabs my hand and Lexon's and raises it in the air, roaring, "District One, your tributes!" And then we are whisked away to the thunderous amount of applause at our backs, one that hasn't been heard since Sage returned home victorious.


	2. Belle the tribute

AN: Hello all! This is chapter 2 (obviously), and I couldn't wait to share it with you guys! I'm hopeful that this chapter will start to reveal a little bit about the characters and their psyches. Remember to check out the tumblr (link on profile) and get a glimpse of what the characters look like! A little feedback would be lovely as well. Thank you and enjoy the read! Lorinda xx

I have been sitting on the velvet loveseat that faces the window for five minutes, when my family finally bursts in the door. Bea starts signing at me furiously, and I can imagine her voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing? What about Chime? Did you even think about him? Why?" After she asks why she collapses in a chair and sobs. I get up, walk to take Chime from my father's arms, and address her questions as he sobs in my shirt. "What do I think I'm doing? Saving you, Bea. You know the Capitol would think badly of you since you can't talk, you can't argue that. And you know I have a better chance of coming back than you do. I'm prepared for this- I study the camouflaging, edible plants, every single aspect of the Hunger Games. And you know what I can do with the weapons I'm given. And of course I thought about Chime. I think about you and Chime more than anybody." My speech, my voice, my body language is cool. It's as if all my anger from earlier has evaporated; now I just feel tired.

I go back to the loveseat I had vacated, and unbury Chime from my shoulder. "Hey, bud. Remember what we talked about earlier today? I love you and Bea and Dad more than anything in the whole, wide world. That's why I have to go to the Hunger Games- because I love Bea so much. She'll take care of you just like I do. In fact, she'll probably play a whole lot of blocks and builders with you." He just looks at me and nods, the pain in his eyes growing deeper and deeper until I have to look away. I take Chime and put him in Bea's arms, then approach my dad. "Dad, thank you for being the best Dad I could ask for, and for trying to be the best mother you could be once Mom was gone. I love you, Dad."

The tears are trying to come so instead I just bury my face in my Dad's shirt, much like Chime did to me. Once I feel as though I have my tear ducts under control, I take a step back and look at my family. "I love you all so, so much. I am going to do my best to return. But please, do me a favor, and take everything I will say or do from now on with a grain of salt. Remember me as Belle, when you see Belle the Tribute on screen. I love you Chime, I love you Bea, I love you Dad, I love you all." Everyone gathers for a group hug and I hold Chime through it even though he's probably too big to be coddled. We stay like this until the Peacekeeper comes to escort them out. Bea suddenly turns around and signs a saying our family has always said in times of strife, "Even creatures of the sky cannot fly with broken wings and injured tails, but they can always hop on the ground until the sky calls them back." We all scramble to yell hurried 'I love you's' until the door slams.

The next to see me are Star, Ara and Satin. Our visit goes much the same way, but as they're on their way out I yell at Satin, "You take care of Star or so help me I might come back from the dead and have to kill you." He just smiles a sad grin and then the door is shut.

I'm not expecting any more visitors so I am surprised when the door opens again. And I'm even more surprised to see that it's Sage Hazelwell, 50% of my mentoring team and 100% wearing a super attractive gray beany. His eyes are wild and his knuckles are clenched white. He's as beautiful as the day I first met him.

He rushes me into a hug, which I was not expecting at all, and whispers in my ear, "When I leave this room, I have to become Sage the Victor and Mentor. While I'm here, I'm Sage the Rebel Child." I think about it and reply, "When I leave this room I become Belle the Tribute, but in your arms I can be Belle the Rebel Child." I blush as I realize it sounds like I'm insinuating something. He chuckles, and the sound vibrates through my entire being and makes my heart do the weird clench thing just like it did when I first met him. We only got to hang out for a month or so at meetings before the rebellion failed, and while our moms were imprisoned, we would meet on rooftops. When they were hung, he came to tell me we couldn't be seen together anymore, that the Capitol might think we were trying to rebel. In essence, he broke up with me in a friendship way and broke my heart as well. I didn't have much time to cry over it, though, because soon after I started playing mother figure to Chime.

"Remember when I came into your class to talk about the greatness of being a Victor and the Capitol and all that jazz and I was super distracted?" I nod, and he continues, "I was distracted by how beautiful you were, how well you'd grown up. And I was distracted because that one kid, um… Dagger! Kept staring at you and I seriously debated killing him." I pull out of his hug, surprised, and the look he gives me is similar to the one he gave me the night we broke up. In this moment, he is no longer a victor- he is just a lonely, vulnerable boy with green eyes and he writes his emotions, in this moment, all over his face. I don't know what to do or say, so I just stare in his eyes- which, I've decided, are a lovely sage green- and he stares back at me and I can feel our three minutes ticking away when, suddenly, his mouth is on mine, gently, and full of emotion I can't read. I respond, finally getting to run my fingers through his hair when the door opens and the Peacekeeper leers at us. Sage gives me one last kiss, puts his beany back on and walks out the door. That explains how he got to come in- he used a disguise. Nobody in their right mind would expect a confident boy like Sage the Victor to look at the ground as he walks.

* * *

I spend the last few minutes in District One obsessively fingering the dragonfly, imagining every contour and crevice my fingers can feel, and then Asterisk comes to get my door. I follow him down the golden hall of fate, and we stop to collect Lexon as well. He has obviously been crying, and I want to take him in my arms and hug this stranger child, but I don't because there are neon photographers all around us, shouting and snapping the obnoxiously bright light bulbs.

I can't just let the kid be seen vulnerable right now, so I hold out my hand and talk in what I hope is an obviously staged voice, "Hi, Lexon! I'm Belle. How did your visits go? Was your room as moldy as mine? Ugh, it made my eyes water. And someone decided it would be a great idea to open a window. I mean, hello, pollen, anyone?" I grin, roll my eyes and wink at him, and he breaks into a giant grin, "It's nice to meet you Belle. It was pretty much the same in my room, too. And you can call me Lex," then tacks on in a whisper, "all my friends and family do."

I don't know what it is about the boys I've interacted with today and how they know the words that will break my heart, but it's all I can do not to start crying again. I loop my arm through his, even though he's about a foot shorter than me, and we follow Asterisk, who is babbling on about either a schedule or giving us a summary about his entire life from the point of conception. We make one more stop at the mentoring room to pick up Sage and Margery, and then we walk out the back of the Justice Building into a long silver car.

I slide in across the velvet seat and sigh at the air conditioning. "It's been so long since I've felt that." Sage gives me an arrogant grin, one I've seen him give to the cameras of Panem and which I know isn't real. Margery just stares at Lex and I, taking turns staring at us piercingly. Asterisk is on some little handheld metal device and is conspicuously silent. Margery eventually lifts a panel in the floor and grabs a water bottle, offering us one. "We'll be stuck in traffic for a little bit. People are still evacuating the squares," she adds, almost bitterly. I take a water bottle and immediately pass it to Lex, taking the last one for myself. After taking a long, cool sip from the water, Margery directs a statement at me, "You're not what you're pretending to be."

The panic must be evident on my face because she adds hurriedly, "I knew your mom from school and I know she would never raise a kid like how you acted on stage, which is how I know that it is an act. But you also sound a lot like your sister Bloom, especially how you interacted with Lex." Cue head nod towards Lex.

I don't know what to say, so I don't say anything. We sit in silence, until Asterisk evacuates his head from his handheld and gives a satisfactory grin, "We might know it's an act, but general consensus among the average Capitol citizen indicates they love the typical District 1 girl façade they've seen so far. And the clip of her introducing herself to Lexon has already circulated. They're glad to see a 'normal, friendly, girl' from here again."

Margery just nods her head up and down and runs her fingers through her long, gold hair. She leans over to whisper to Sage, who nods his head and apparently agrees with her whole heartedly. Margery starts to speak, but Sage starts to furrow his eyebrows and look at me as though, maybe, if he stares hard enough, he'll be able to see me down to my cells. "So here's the plan so far; Belle, keep acting like you're acting. I want you to pretend to be almost every District One tribute you've ever seen in reruns of the Hunger Games. Smile, wave, blow kisses to the cameras. Lexon, I want you to grin and act as though you're so excited to be here, even if you're not. I want you two to joke and act as siblings. We'll discuss other strategy on the train, so think about if you want to be trained separately." I glance at Lex, who shrugs but looks hopeful, and say, "I'm already attached to the twerp. He reminds me too much of Chime, my nephew, for me to prevent anything else. If he wants to train together then I'm game."

Margery just shakes her head like she expected nothing else, even though she is about fifty years old. She was a winner at the height of District One power, and I think I can tell just how much our drop in status was, and how our tributes don't even stand a chance anymore. I hear a whispered "thanks" from Lex, but I don't pay much attention as Sage is staring at me in a way that cues me in that he's not actually looking at me, but drowned in memories. I have seen this look before, in Bea's eyes, in my father's eyes, and mine when I bothered to look in a mirror. It's the look of someone who desperately wishes someone who isn't there was.

I am just about to speak to Sage, to bring up this taboo, when the car barely rolls to a stop and Asterisk jumps out of the car, "Come, come, we have places to be!" Margery slides out first, then Lex, me, Sage. The air is still stifling, even more so with must be at least one hundred bodies tightly packed into the train station.


	3. Human instincts

AN: This is sort of a filler chapter, a necessary evil in the writing world. It's short, but I'll have Chapter 4 up soon. How is everyone liking this? I don't want to sound like one of those writers who beg you to review every chapter, but I would love to see what you guys think. So, please, leave me a review *puppy dog eyes*

-Lorinda

AN2: I recommend listening to Leaving on a Jet Plane by John Denver as you read this chapter. It was the musical inspiration for this chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins or Skyfall by Adele or whoever owns the James Bond Franchise. I also don't own John Denver or Leaving on a Jet Plane, though I'd love to borrow his voice for a while. Chances are, if you don't recognize it, it came out of the scary place that is my writer's mind. I am making no money writing this.

Warnings: pre-Games violence! temperamental tribute!

* * *

Lex just gets to the door of the train when he stops, and gets that look in his eyes I've noticed members of the male species get when they think about doing something stupid or being stubborn. I automatically put my hand between his shoulder blades, like I do with Chime when we have to go to the city square. I don't know who told him, probably some stupid classmate, but someone told him that is where his mother was hung. Note to self, if I survive the Hunger Games, hire private tutor for Chime…

Lex finally responds once I start to dig my nails into his back, and we're back in the gloriously cool that is all Capitol transportation systems. And once I step in, I can't help but gasp because even though I've lived in District One all my life, half in luxury and half not, I have never seen a room as beautiful as this one.

Sage walks past me and gives me the barest bump with his hip before I register that the train door has closed and we are now moving. I hear Lex breathe a 'wow' before running to the window opposite us to watch the background fly past.

"Come, come, please sit down!" Asterisk appears behind me suddenly, even though there's only a foot between me and the train door, and puts his hand on the small of my back. And even though his purple hair should give it away, for a moment all I can see is just the white suit and I'm sent back to a cold night and Peacekeepers everywhere and screaming, so much screaming.

I can't help the instincts that are already surging in my veins; the moment I walked on stage, I went into survival mode and I won't go out until I win. I grab his wrist, shove him against the door and put my forearm heavily against his throat, cutting off his air supply, realizing only when another man in a white suit drops a tray laden with glass dishes that I remember this man is not doing me harm, is not going to do me harm, and is only trying to help me. I can't help it- it's the white suit that brings this defensive action up from the bottom of my memory.

"Asterisk, I'm so, so, sorry, oh lord…" I step back, absolutely mortified, and look around the car. Margery is openly staring at me, the cool mask she normally wears still on, though it looks like her brows are furrowed a tiny bit. More people in white suits come to help the man who dropped the glasses, though all are eying me warily. Lex is gazing at me, jaw dropped with hero worship in his eyes, and Sage is… smirking?

"What?" I snap at him before turning back to Asterisk who is fanning tears from his eyes, though he looks less upset than I would be if I were him. "That's twice now, you know that? If this is how District One reacts then I'm sure as hell glad I don't escort District Two." And with that confusing statement he walks into the train car behind us.

It stays silent for a few minutes until Lex decides he's had enough and blurts out, "can you teach me that?" I nod my head, finally deciding I should move before my feet root in the carpet. I walk into what I have designated the sitting room and sit in a plush purple chair that looks like it should be in Ara's father's library. Lex goes back to watching the world fly by and I just stare at my shoes.

My silence only lasts a few minutes, though, because I have lived in a noisy household my entire life and if there's no noise then I'll make my own. "So, what's the plan?"

"To get one of you back alive." Sage deadpans. This upsets me because I can see Lex's shoulders droop so I do what any normal girl would do.

I remove my flat from my right foot and chuck it right at his face, satisfied when I hear it crack against his nose. "I have another shoe and so help me I will break your nose." I snarl. Margery snorts, amusement glittering in her eyes. She turns to Sage and says, "I told you one day you would have to deal with a tribute that's as much a pain in the ass as you were. Oh lordy am I glad I was here to see you meet your match. Come on, Lex, let me show you to your room so we can get you changed for supper." She and Lex leave through the door Asterisk left through less than ten minutes earlier.

Sage sighs and walks over to the couch perpendicular to me, only to flop on his stomach in a rather undignified manner. Sometimes he acts the fifteen year old more than the twenty year old I know he is. He flips himself over so he can look at me and I can see the amusement twinkling in his eyes.

Well, it's either amusement or tears.

"What's so funny?" I ask, starting to get pissed off just a tiny bit that everything I do seems to be amusing to him, a clown, instead of the girl he was kissing not even an hour earlier. My emotions are already over the map; I don't need anyone else's to be.

He doesn't answer me straight away, instead making a 'follow me' gesture with his hand. It is only because he is my mentor and not that I want to stare at his butt, that I follow. But that fact certainly doesn't hurt.

We walk consecutively through a few cars before stopping in the extravagant dining room, where he holds out a chair for me and I sit even though I want to demand not to until I get some answers. Sage sits down across from me and folds his hands behind his head. I just stare impassively. The current object of my frustration finally leans forward and folds his hand in front of him. "You and I are a lot alike, Belle. We grew up in… similar household situations," and I know he means having our mothers lead the rebellion "and therefore a lot of our reflexes are the same. You know how Asterisk switches between his white suit and gold one every year, and the year I was reaped he was in the white."

I nod so he knows I'm following him, "Right before we pulled into the tunnel before the Capitol, he came to get me. I had been watching Hunger Games reruns in the viewing room, and when I saw that white uniform I forgot where I was and did what I was taught to do… I may or may not have also tried to strangle him. In answer to Marg's earlier comment, I threw a dinner plate at the other mentor, Onyx, and clipped his head. He'll be meeting us at the training center, by the way. I can't wait to show you off. Any more questions?"

I ponder this for a moment, but right as I'm about to ask Asterisk walks in wearing a silver shirt and black pants, so I change my question to "Are the crystals in the chandelier real?" Sage lifts an eyebrow but answers, "This is a tribute train. I'm sure it is." He looks to Asterisk to confirm, which he does. And then announces that we must leave the dining cart so the avoxes can set the table.

"Wait, what's an avox?" I ask curiously. He replies in a nonchalant tone of voice, "A traitor of the capitol who has become a permanent servant. They can't talk, they cut out their tongues or something. They're the ones in white." He then walks into the car ahead.

I can only stare at the area where the annoying Capitolite was seconds ago. There are ten thousand thoughts rushing through my head, the biggest one screaming 'why would someone take away the ability to talk?'

I start to breathe quickly, and the door Asterisk just walked through opens and streams in men and women in bright, white uniforms. Uniforms that mark that they have been subjected to cruelty beyond belief, part of their humanity taken away. They carry in golden dinner plates and matching satin lap napkins. I'm not aware that I'm reaching out to tap the nearest Avox, a woman with reddish gold hair and brown eyes until I sign furiously, "I'm so sorry." The woman's eyes widen and she signs back, "how do you know the hand language?"

There we stand, having a non-spoken conversation in a sea of white, and I'm completely oblivious to the shocked stares of the avoxes who continue on with their jobs. "My sister is mute, too, and partially deaf." The woman's face shows nothing, but her eyes portray her shock.

After a moment she shakes her head and says, "My condolences. We're not supposed to talk to anyone unless they're giving us orders. Now I'm sorry, I must go, or I'll get in trouble." And then the lady with the red hair disappears in the rush of white, and I just stand there. Until I feel a hand tap me on the shoulder and I jump about ten feet in the air.

Sage appears behind me, solemn, and murmurs, "We should get out of there way. Let me take you to your room, so you can change." I am about to object, but he squeezes my shoulder and adds, "You're fine in that outfit, but Capitolites change before every meal. It will make a better impression on everyone if you're in a different outfit when we arrive in the Capitol tonight and not the one you were reaped in."

I nod my head and follow him out of the dining car, leaving the sea of noise not made by human mouths behind. We walk through maybe ten thousand cars before he stops in a cherry wood paneled hallway. "This," he says pointing at the door on our right, "Is your room. Lexon's is on the left." I nod my head once and am about to head in when I stop and turn around. "Sage, if, uh… if something happens to me, will you make sure Bea gets this dress back? And the shoes too? And make sure Chime gets my necklace, so he'll have a piece of me with him at all times." Sage nods, somber, and walks back up the way we came.

Before the door shuts, he yells, "Dinner is in an hour", and then I see him stop to talk to an Avox, presumably giving orders to have my stuff collected, to give back to my sister and nephew when I am dead.


	4. Rebellion killed the District One girl

AN: Hello, this is chapter four! And yes, when you read the title of the chapter, you MUST sing it to the tune of "Video killed the radio star" ;) On the tumblr (lorinda-writes-fanfiction) I posted a picture of the dress Belle wears to dinner. let me know what you think, please? Heart you all- Lorinda

Disclaimer: Still poor, so I probably don't own The Hunger Games or

* * *

The room I walk into is glorious, luxurious, and I hate it; everything from the cherry wooded four poster bed to the matching dressers that line the walls. There are at least four gilded mirrors in this room, and I can see my reflection, _Bea's reflection_, everywhere. It used to reassure me to look in the mirror, because then I would see my twin staring back, but now it just hurts. Ah, the curse of identical twin-dom.

I take off the flimsy shoes I have been wearing since my world turned upside down and run onto the bed, having to give a bit of a jump. I'm not short by any means, a respectable 5'5'', but there must be at least a foot of blankets on the bed and it was already three feet high.

Once my struggle is over I lie spread eagle on the down comforter, wondering if I attempted to smother myself if it would work or if someone would notice, because surely they're monitoring at least my heartbeat so I don't off myself. I pull the comforter up all around me, loving the way the silver and blue comforter seems to form a shield around me. I turn myself so I'm facing the mirror that is by what I assume is the closet, and have to giggle. If only the Capitol could see me now.

I've been staring into the mirror for a while now, thinking of everything that has happened and everything that will happen when there's a gentle knock on the door. "Belle," Margery calls out softly, "remember what your strategy is. I recommend that you dress for your act, because after dinner and watching the reapings recap, we may not have enough time for you to change again. So just keep that in mind." And with that, she departs. I sigh, unwrap myself from the cocoon of safety I have created, and roll off the bed in a manner that contradicts my age of 18.

* * *

I open the door by the mirror to find myself walking into another room, filled with racks of dresses in every color and style under the sun. I run almost immediately to the back. "Ooh, purple," I murmur to myself, running my fingers through the different types of fabric. As shallow as it might be in the face of death, I _missed_ having clothes of all sorts of pretty fabrics. Cotton's great and all, but sometimes a girl just wants to wear some satin.

I look through the rack, finally stopping at a purplish/ red cocktail dress with geometric shapes for straps. Bloom had a dress in this color; it's this thought that makes me change hurriedly. If Bea and Dad see me in this dress, they'll know that I'm going to fight just like she did.

I turn to the shoe rack, wanting to find comfortable shoes but wanting to look nice, classy, like a regular tribute from District 1 from the old days. I finally settle on a pair of shiny, black kitten heels. This should go together nicely.

I fold my clothes up quickly and put it on my bed, placing the shoes on the bottom of the stack. I'm about to walk out the door when I trip, my hip hitting one of the drawers. As I pick myself up off the ground, I see the cupboard slowly roll open, revealing a treasure trove inside.

Makeup!

I make an undignified squealing noise and lunge forward, yanking the drawer open unceremoniously. I ran out of makeup after I turned 15 and we just haven't been able to afford it since. As I lay out the tools of my trade on the top of the dresser, a timid "knock" sounds at the door, and I hear a muffled, "Belle?"

I'd know that voice anywhere because it sounds alarmingly like Chime's, "Yeah, Lex? You can come in, it's okay."

He peers around the door, as if to make sure that I'm truly not naked, and walks in the room. Lex is dressed in a nice set of black dress pants and a white top. "Is that silk?" I ask as he sits on the floor against the bed. He shrugs, clearly not caring, then asks, "Is everything okay? I heard you scream."

I lean forward, starting the never-changing ritual of applying eye liner. "Yeah, kid, just a spider." As if I'm going to tell one of the lower-class kids of District one that I screamed _with excitement_ because I saw makeup for the first time in three years.

Lex sits in silence through eye shadow, concealer, foundation, mascara, and I'm just topping off on lipstick when he asks with a concentrated look on his face, "What do you think our competition's going to be like?"

I put down the silver tube and turn around, looking into his brown eyes that are too worn down for his age. I plod across the carpet and sit on my heels, just like I did with Chime this morning. "Do you want me to lie, or tell the brutal honest truth?"

He gives a weak smile, "Both." I nod, allowing my face to break into the fake smile I will be wearing for the cameras. "Our competition? Such idiots. I bet the tributes from District 2 can't tell left from right and spend all their free time picking their noise. And to take down District 4, all we need to do is yank their mirrors from their hands and they'll combust." He chuckles, and I let the smile drop from my face. "But, really, kid, our competition is going to be tough. Don't worry; I have a plan. Trust me, ally, one of us is going home." Suddenly, there's a loud, heavy knock at the door and I fall backward with an unholy screech.

The door flies open and Sage comes rushing in, looking for some invisible assailant and finding me flopped on the ground and Lex holding his hand over his mouth, trying (and failing) not to laugh. "What are you doing on the ground?" He asks, crossing his arms. I'm not sure, but I think I see something that is either jealousy or trepidation in his eye.

I blow a piece of hair that had fallen in my face off, "Practicing dying in a fashionable way. What does it look like I'm doing? I fell." I roll my eyes and shoot him a cool glare before putting up a hand with a movement I hope conveys annoyance. "Now, are you going to be a gentleman and help me up or not?" Sage finally reaches out and grabs my hand. I try my best to not remember how those hands had been scrunched up in my hair only earlier this afternoon.

Try being the operative word.

Sage informs us that he had been sent to collect us for dinner. I stare at the ground, furiously hoping the blush on my cheeks will die down. I stare at it all the way to the dining room and only look up when we enter and the set of food hit. It's a beautiful site, one which was extravagant even before the table settings were in place.

Asterisk is sitting at the head of the table with Margery to his right. He gestures Lex and I across the table from her, and Sage goes to sit on her right. We've only just sat down when the Avoxes come streaming in, arms laden with trays of food.

I have never, in my life, seen so much food in one place at the same time. Not even in District 1 before the rebellion.

Course after course arrives on the table, with Asterisk reminding us to save room for later, because there's more to come. I finally have to skip the last three courses- a lovely orange soup, whipped and frothy, a whole cooked artichoke, and a pink meat sliced so thin I can almost see through it.

However, my resolve to not eat anymore vanishes when a three tiered, chocolate frosted cake appears. "Wow," Lex breathes, "That's a lot of chocolate."

Amen, kid, amen.

Sage stands up and grabs a bottle of wine from one of the waiters, pouring our flutes full. Until he goes to pour into Lex's glass and Margery pipes up. "Sage, he's thirteen."

"He's old enough to die, he's old enough to have a bit of a drink."

It's a standoff between the two, and before the tension in the room finally erupts I say softly, "Why don't we give him a single glass? He might not even like it. That's what my parents did, back when they hosted dinner parties. One glass of wine when you're ten to fifteen, two when you're fifteen to eighteen, and once you survive the reaping you can drink as much as you like."

"Ah, what a grand idea! It's a common practice in the Capitol too." Thank you, Asterisk, for backing me up. Sage pours Lex his glass, Margery is drinking deeply from hers, and I take a sweet sip.

This is much, much better than any wine we ever had in District One. It's sweet, with a minimum of the bitter taste of alcohol, and tastes like every fruit I've ever had combined in one luscious liquid drop.

Suddenly there's a sputtering from right beside me. "Why do adults drink that?!" Lex exclaims, unceremoniously wiping his tongue with his napkin. The table erupts; Sage with a deep belly laugh, Margery with a slightly drunken giggle (she's on her fourth glass already, shooting the wine back like whiskey), me with a chuckle, and Asterisk with a look that informs us all how appalled he is at Lex. However, he's soon caught up in the slightly alcohol soaked atmosphere and joins in. During all of this Lex sits there with a sheepish grin, but also a gleam in his eye that tells us how pleased he is with himself for making everyone laugh.

Once it's silent, I gesture to the woman I approached earlier who is standing by the door waiting for orders. "Can he have a glass of milk please?" She gives me a slight smile and a nod, returning shortly afterward with it. We all eat a slice of cake (two, in Lex's case) and sit in a full, contented silence. Soon, however, we're brought back to reality by Asterisk.

"Oh! The Reaping Recaps! They'll be on in a minute! Come, come, everyone!" He somehow manages to herd us all at once into the room we first walked into when we entered the train. I don't remember seeing the silver screen that's now blaring the seal and anthem of Panem, but I was slightly distracted by the opulence of, well, everything.

I sit on the couch directly facing the TV, with Lex sitting next to me and Sage sitting next to him. I brace myself to see the faces of my competition. People that are fighting, just like me, to get home to their loved ones; people I will have to kill if I want to get home myself.


	5. Tinder and sparks

AN: And we're almost to the Capitol! Here I reveal a little bit of Sage and Belle's past. Things are starting to get a little steamy (still T steamy lol) and there's a lot of emotion going on here. Enjoy, and let me know what you think! xx Lorinda

* * *

The first Reapings shown are my own. From the screen, Lex looks just like any young Career. It's only if you stare very, very closely that you notice how skinny his arms are, how skinny he is. How he is shaking slightly. The announcers are helpful, though, saying how he looks like a previous District One victor when he was a kid. Good. This will help with sponsors.

Then Asterisk calls Bea's name and I have to hold back tears. She looks so distraught; I'm glad the cameras didn't catch me crying on my knees, though. That wouldn't help my career image. They do catch me as I yell the first time that I volunteer. I have to admit that I look strong, arrogant. Like an old career girl.

The commentators giggle over my exchange with Asterisk, make remarks about how District One is returning to 'normal' finally. Then they switch over to the reapings of District Two.

I catch my breath when I see the hulk of a boy from Two, Teo, volunteer before the escort has even started to say the name. This happens with the girl, Tenda, as well, and as they exchange cruel smirks on stage I can't help but gulp and hope to heaven that I get in with the Career pack. Because I would rather fight those two head on than be hunted and caught unaware by them.

The reapings for District Three is normal, and there's one volunteer from Four, Dorian. Both of their tributes are lanky, but look strong. They might be a little younger than the rest of the pack, but they're attractive and that will get them sponsors, so they'll definitely be in.

District Five has two normal standard tributes, District Six a young boy and girl that scream bloodbath. The tributes from Seven are to be watched; the girl is short, but she wears a scowl like I wear makeup, and the boy's arms are bulging with muscles from lifting an axe all day.

I sit through the boy tribute from Eight's reaping, but am jerked back to reality when they call the name Jeanine Paylor for the girl. Paylor. I know that name; it was brought up in meetings, and later whispered across couches as the woman's execution was broadcasted across Panem. The resigned look on the fourteen year old's face tells me that she knows she is not coming home.

District Nine has two volunteers. Because they were the second to last district to rebel, and one of the first to rejoin the Capitol, they are being rewarded. The way they've handled swords and spears in recent years have caused whisperings that the Capitol is letting them train some tributes.

District Ten has rather pathetic looking tributes, good for me and bad for them, but my attention is regained when Eleven has a volunteer. The boy, Rain Levede, shares the same last name as the girl, Raya, and when asked confirms they are siblings. Another pair to watch out for; I know the power of sibling love.

"She looks familiar." Sage says of the Elevenites as Twelve reaps two soot covered children. The girl is absolutely forgetful and the boy is strong looking; he's 18, he must work in their mines. He'll be good with the axes and pick axes, probably. I'm sitting there, digesting the faces of the people I must kill to get home, when I catch Margery say, "Levede… Her sister was a tribute, 74th Games… what was the name… Rhododendron? Rose…?"

"Rue," I say quietly, "Her name was Rue."

The name causes silence in the room, except for those on screen announcing initial betting odds. The atmosphere is tense, and I know why. Rue was the tinder to the spark of the rebellion; she touched an entire nation, and I personally sobbed as she died, because she was my age and for some reason my mind replaced her face with Bea's.

Just as I wipe the image from my mind, Lex stands up and rushes out of the room, running into an unfortunate Avox before dashing down another cart. Before the door shuts, I hear the distinct sound of him vomiting, and get up to go help when Margery gently pushes me back down. "Don't worry. I have this; we'll be in the Capitol soon and I don't want you and your pretty dress exposed. Besides," she says with a wrinkled noise, "I've gotten rather good at consoling barfing children in the past forty years." And with that she walks out the door, barking orders.

After a few minutes of silence, Asterisk excuses himself and walks out, muttering something about final preparations and whatnot. I get off the couch and walk to the window, leaning on the sill as I watch the stars fly by. I almost forgot I wasn't alone when suddenly the lights in the car go off and I feel the vibration of footsteps through the carpet.

"They're easier to see with the lights off." Sage says quietly, leaning right next to me, the moonlight reflecting off his silver metallic shirt. I hum a little noise of acquisition, turning my attention back to the night sky. And then I'm speaking before I think. "It reminds me of some of the nights we spent on the shops in town." Shit; I just have to go and make things awkward, don't I?

"All that's missing is the smell of fresh bread." Our favorite roof to sit on was the baker's, because it was right next to where the rebellion met in the tailor's basement. We were supposed to be keeping watch, but instead we usually goofed off. Because things were innocent back then and it was a sure bet that the rebellion would win.

I stare at the landscape, the world outside too dark to see much but quickly passing silhouettes. "Tell me what you're thinking." Sage murmurs after a few minutes, somehow appearing right next to me and moving a piece of hair behind my ear. I hope he can't see my blush in the moonlight. "Uh, well, I'm thinking about the competition." I can almost hear his nod, and then again words are falling out of my mouth without my permission, "I'm trying to figure out what you're doing. Because one moment you're kissing me and then another you're being sort of an ass. And you're a bit distracting." Sage gives a short, awkward laugh and runs his fingers through his hair. I try to ignore how much I want to be the one doing that.

"Well, for starters, I'll have you know," his voice dips, and as it gets lower I feel my gut drop down to my toes, "that I'm confused too about all this, too. And I have a part, an act, to play. If I play it well, then no one gets hurt. As for the kiss," he continues, this part whispered, "I had to do it. Just once. Because I'd been waiting for so long. You know" he says, voice tinged with hurt, "I kept waiting for you to come see me. I kept hoping and hoping and you never came."

"I didn't think you'd want me. Because, to quote you, the 'both of us seen together would only cause more trouble'. And you were a victor, Sage! You could have had any girl in the district. Don't think I didn't want to be by your side every second of the day. Because you were my friend too- someone that understood what it was like to lose a mom." I turn my attention back to the sky, gripping the ledge of the window with all my might. My head's swimming and I can't get a thought to make sense. Nothing makes sense; hell, I'm still expecting to wake up today in my little bed, hung over because Star, me, and Ara got into her parent's liquor stash. Well, if this is a dream, then I don't want to waste it.

Before I can even comprehend what I'm doing, my lips are on Sage's and it's like this afternoon in the Justice Building but hotter, hotter, hotter because the butterflies aren't just in my stomach; they're everywhere, kissing every nerve ending with the tips of their wings. He boosts me up to the window ledge, and it's a tough fit so I balance myself by wrapping my legs around his waist.

He's kissing my jaw when he murmurs, "You smell like oranges. You've always smelled like oranges." Huh. What a funny thing for him to say in my dream.

And then Margery walks in and flips the light on. She gasps, and Sage steps back from me, effectively causing me to lose my balance so I slide down the wall. Margery rushes towards me and gasps again. "Ouch hon, that look liked it hurt."

"No more than my pride is. This is sorta turning out to be a rather depressing dream." I murmur, and Marg turns to look at Sage in confusion, who turns to look at me in confusion. "What?" I shrug my shoulders, "I can't control what happens in my dreams."

Safe and Margery exchange a look, one that says they're worried I've clearly lost my marbles, before she sits in front of me, her on the back of her heels and me slouched against the wall. "Belle, honey, this isn't a dream. This is real; it's unfortunately all so, so real."

"Ah.. what?" I pinch myself to make sure I'm not dreaming. The pain indicates I'm not. I guess the scrape on my back from the wall should have given it away. I groan and pull my knees up to my chest, burying my face in them. Well, this is embarrassing.

Words are exchanged and someone leaves- Sage, I'd assume. I'd leave if it were me.

I feel the tears starting to build up in my eyes and let out something between a choked sob and a scream. A hand suddenly appears at the dip between my shoulder blades, making smoothing circles. After I hiccup a few more times, a deep voice says, "Please don't cry, Belle. We'll be pulling into the train station in a few minutes and I don't want you to ruin your makeup." I nod, to let him know I'm listening, and then two hands appear under my armpits and lift me to my feet.

I look at Sage's face- he really is beautiful. And he really kisses well. I don't know whether to feel relieved that the kisses weren't apart of the dream or upset because I made a fool of myself. "Hey," he murmurs, holding my head up in his hands, "Don't cry, Belle, please. It's okay. I mean, it's nice to know that I'm in your dreams," cue cocky smirk, "but now I'm here. And besides," He brushes a curl behind my ear and I just stare at his eyes, "I was going to kiss you again anyway."

A small smile graces my lips. "You were?"

He nods. "I was." We stay locked in a hug for a few minutes, but then I have to take a step back because I'm having a hard time concentrating on what really matters (like, staying alive) when I can feel his body pressed against mine. The week before the Hunger Games is not the best time to deal with all the sexual, hormonal, whatever bullshit frustration. It's palpable between us and it's like I'm a pile of tinder and he's the brightest spark; I'm just waiting for him to set me off.

Sage gives me a questioning look but I just wave him off. I can't see the night sky anymore; everything is an unnatural shade of black. We must be in the tunnel.

The door suddenly opens and Margery, Lex and Asterisk walk in. Woo, am I glad that Margery walked in on us earlier. I'd hate to have Lex see the rather wanton way I acted. "Ah! Everyone's here!" Asterisk screeches in the god awful accent everyone in the Capitol has. I tune him out as he starts talking about how seeing the Capitol for the first time is a magical experience, especially at night, instead noticing how the purple silk shirt Lex is wearing brings out some of the red highlights in his otherwise plain brown hair.

Eventually Asterisk shuts up and Margery says, quietly, "Remember, we're going for the career angle here. When we get to the station, there'll be cameras everywhere, people yelling your name. I want you to smile and wave, wink, smirk, whatever you think will win them over but _do not talk to them_. Not only will it make you more mysterious, but we haven't had time to go over how to properly answer things."

It's lucky Margery has a rather good sense of timing because just as she finishes her speech, the Capitol emerges into the sitting room window.

It's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Neon green roofs that glow in the dark act like beacons; the windows on the building change color in time from pink to purple to red back to pink. There's a haze over the city, and I know it's just like smog in District 1, but it seems to sparkle and dance in the air here.

As we get closer and closer I'm able to appreciate the architecture of it all. Smooth glass panels making all see-through buildings. A few, rather large marble buildings with the seal of Panem on every surface condense together around a black fountain cut into geometric shapes.

But just as the beauty began, it ends, for we pull into the Train station. I can hear the screech of the brakes as it comes to its final, jolt-less stop. Sage quickly slips his hand in mine, gives it a squeeze, and lets go just as the doors whoosh open and we are greeted by a barrage of light.


	6. Little Rebellions

AN: Hey guys, here's Chapter 6! This has mention of alcohol in it, so, um, yeah. Shout out to the person who has this story on alert- I can't tell you how happy that made me! I actually did an embarrassing dance. So, yeah, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games. I'm about to enter college, so I wish I did, as the paycheck would be extremely helpful at this point...

* * *

I tuck another piece of hair behind my ear and smooth my dress before stepping out of the train and into the cool, Capitol night. I grin, hoping it doesn't make my lips look as swollen as they feel from my desperate make out session with my childhood friend turned mentor.

I walk down the stairs with grace and poise, giving little waves as my partner waves maniacally. We should really think these things through next time we debate giving him any form of sugar.

Even though there are Peacekeepers all around to 'escort' us to our car, it takes us an hour to push our way through the crowd of brightly colored freaks, for lack of a better word. Fifteen minutes in, someone threw a daisy at my feet so I picked it up and put it in my hair, blowing kisses in the general direction of the flower thrower. This caused a chain reaction, so now, as I slide in the cool leather seats, I have a large and bulky bouquet of mixed flowers. "What should I do with these?" I ask Margery once the doors have closed and we're on our way. "Just leave it on the seat; the Avoxes will compost them." I nod because I really have no idea what else I'd do with them.

When we're fifteen minutes away (according to the cool, automated voice that came over the loud speaker) Margery speaks up. "Districts 1 and 2 are the only ones that arrive the night before. You will be escorted to the Remake center at 10 o'clock, but I'm waking you all for breakfast at nine. Keep that in mind before you stay up all night." This comment was obviously aimed at me, since Lex is nodding off in his seat, head against the window. I nod, because the rather bastardly and all too familiar lump in my throat appears as I spot the Training Centre through the car windows.

Well, the camera hasn't lied about its opulence; if anything, it's dulled it. The silver panels (stainless steel, I wonder?) gleam even though the only light on them is the streetlamps that illuminate the circular driveway.

The team, as I have come to think of them, marches quietly through the bright, white lobby, Lex almost nodding off on his feet several times. We step into the crystal elevator and Marg pushes a button with a golden one on it, and then we're almost floating our way to the top. I watch the chairs, the attendants, fade to little ants until a decisive _bing!_ announces that we're on our floor. I wonder- is this how it feels to fly?

The suite is just like the train on the fancy scale, but there's definitely more color here. The train was whites and blues and greys, and this room is golden yellows, scarlets, crimsons, navy blues, and dark forest greens. I don't know how all these colors work together but they just _do_. Asterisk takes the lead, giving us a tour of our grand new quarters. There's a dining room with a beautiful mahogany table and matching chairs, the living room with navy blue carpeting and matching accents, white couches that act as though they have never seen a stain. Asterisk seems intent on standing in this room all day and talking about the value and greatness of every single piece of furniture, but I see Lex nodding off again and decide to take action before he falls asleep and hits his head on the coffee table. "Asterisk," I speak quietly yet strongly, "some of us have had a very hard and tiring day. Do you think you could show us where are rooms are?"

Asterisk palms himself in the head. "Of course! I don't know what I was thinking. Follow me, darlings." We follow him down a dark wooded paneled hallway that connects with the entry foyer. My room is the first door on the left, Lex's the second. Asterisk also points out Sage, Margery's and Onyx's room. "That's where they stay when they have business in the Capitol," he whispers conspiratorially, before marching off to see something about preparations for tomorrow. Blah, blah blah, blah blah blah, blah.

"Goodnight, Lex!" I say as I open the door to my bedroom, barely hearing his mumbled "'night, Belle." Poor baby; he's so exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

I don't know what I was expecting when I walked into what will become my bedroom, but it was not this. I was expecting opulence- always opulence with the Capitol- but in the colors they had outside, the golds and the reds.

The walls are all painted a lovely shade of light green, somewhere a cross between mint green and sea green. Aquamarine hangings decorate, and white dressers line the walls, and the bed. Oh, the bed! It looks as though someone melted a bar of chocolate and molded the headboard and bed posts with it. The comforter is the exact color of fog, and from here I can see the little green, white, and aquamarine blue threads. It's beautiful. I'll have to recall this color combination, should I live. Maybe. We'll see.

There's nothing more I want right at this exact moment that to crawl into the bed and fall asleep, to numb away all the pain today has brought me. But I haven't had a hot shower (it was more important that Chime got a hot bath) since I turned fourteen. And I'm so keyed up, I don't know if I _can_ sleep right now.

I grab a pair of little gray shorts, a white tanktop, and a long purple silk nightshirt. I believe in sleeping in layers. I'm almost in the bathroom before I remember I don't have any underwear.

I root around in some of the drawers before finally coming to an entire section of dresser that is dedicated to bras and panties. They're in every color, size, and design available. How considerate of them. The bastards. I blush deep red when I see a G-string (that dare was Ara's fault) and instead reach for a pair of boyshorts that are in the same color as my shirt.

The shower is absolute heaven; it's just the right temperature, and alternates between a regular shower spray or falling like rain. I almost freak out when I realize I've been standing in the shower for about twenty minutes, but quickly get over it. I'm tense, I haven't had a shower like this in years, and I could be dead in a week. Shoot me for wasting water.

After many failed attempts at finding just normal soap for my hair, I come across some citrus scented stuff. I've always leaned toward that genre of scent- I buy orange scented soap for our clothes when we can afford it.

Finally dragging myself out since I am now officially as wrinkled as a prune, I towel off my hair when the words "Hair dryer: place hand on pad" catches my attention. Maybe it's a bad idea to trust a machine in the Capitol, but if I can get my hair dried in a few minutes instead of the few hours it usually takes my thick mane, I'm in.

I place my hand on the pad, which sends a little zing through my body. Huh. That was stupid. I head back to the counter in disappointment, but almost squeal with excitement when I see my hair in the mirror. Instead of tight curls all over the place, my hair now falls in loose ringlets down my back. Wow. What an invention.

After I'm done with the entire shower process, I tiptoe out of my room, heading for the golden kitchenette Asterisk showed us on the tour. I'm just past the living room when I hear someone growl, "Where do you think you're going, missy?" and wrap an arm around my waste. My fighting instincts make one of their rather frequent (as of late) appearances so I thrust my elbow backward, hitting my attacker in the rib and sending all his breath out in a hiss. As I turn around to face my attacker, Sage's face is illuminated in the night lights that seem to be hidden all over the place. Under chairs, on coffee tables, everywhere.

I drop my defensive position as Sage moves himself up from where he fell between the couch and coffee table. "You're pretty strong, you know that?" He gripes. Just for fun, I elbow him again in the exact same spot. I'm sure there's a seat at the dinner table in hell saved for me, but it is _so_ worth it.

"You never answered my question." Sage tosses back as he heads to the kitchenette. I shrug, even though I know he can't see it, and add "I was coming out for a snack. Maybe some more of that chocolate cake…" I let my words trail off there, so the drool that's forming in my mouth doesn't drip out. I decide it's time to turn the tables. "What are you doing out here, Sage? Shouldn't you be sleeping and getting ready to get me sponsors for tomorrow?"

The look he gives me clearly states that he is not in the mood, nor is he amused. "I'm looking for a bottle of the wine we had on the train. I need something to help my emotional mess, but if I have anything stronger than wine I'll be a zombie all of tomorrow."

* * *

By the time he finds that bottle of wine, I'm on my second slice of chocolate cake, brought to me so kindly by an avox who also informed me that the original cake had been thrown away.

I'll never understand the way they waste food here.

Sage gestures for me to follow him, wine bottle in hand, so I unfold myself from the lotus position I had assumed on the couch. It actually felt very satisfying to get chocolate crumbs all smooshed into the white fabric of the couch.

It's the little rebellions that count, I guess.

Sage opens up a door in the living room I hadn't seen and steps out into the night air. I follow, albeit timidly, and almost gasp with surprise as I enter what seems to be another world. Plants grow abundantly in pots all over the place, and flowers bloom in every color of the rainbow. Wind chimes hang off almost every viable, sturdy surface. I follow Sage down the sandstone path, my feet slapping away at the cold, smooth rock. Finally, he reaches a little glass table and sets down the bottle of wine, then reaches in his coat pockets to remove two wine glasses.

I stand there awkwardly as he arranges everything. What is he doing? I don't care. I'm just interested in watching him, watching the way his eye process every little thing. Finally he plops down in a chair that has to be stronger than it looks. "Well, what are you doing? Have a seat, please." He makes a grand gesture and I take a seat across from him, the cold iron of the chair instantly chilling my bare skin. As Sage pours our wine, I study the boy I knew who has turned him into a man I don't. He's not in any fancy clothes right now, instead in pale blue denim jeans with fashionable rips and tears, and in a thin white sweater. He has his silver, trademark ring on as well as the silver chain I know to be his mothers. His feet are bare- this is something the old Sage often did. He'd take his shoes off anytime he could- one time on the baker's roof he told me he did it to flip the bird to District 1, and how everything must be prim and proper all the time. It was one of his little rebellions, one which it would seem he has not grown out of. I thought it was so attractive, as a little girl. Rebellious older boys were attractive. Still are, in Sage's case.

We sip our wine in silence for a few minutes, simply enjoying the gentle music of the chimes and the cool breeze on our faces. And then a thought comes to me, "Who's actually my mentor? You or Margery?" Sage takes another sip before he answers, "At first, officially Margery was your mentor. I asked if we could switch, though, after she, err… walked in on us. She's Lex's mentor now."

"Oh." Brilliant, Belle, brilliant, "Why do you want to be my mentor? Wouldn't it be easier if Margery was? Doesn't this seem like a conflict of interest…" I don't say anymore because Sage is staring at me intensely, eye brows drawn together. "Not that I'm upset, I'm super glad you're my mentor, but the idea of making out while learning to stay alive is causing me inner conflict." I hurry, not wanting him to take this the wrong way. He doesn't; instead, he laughs. "I can be a mentor when need be. And I can be Sage the boy you kiss when you want me to be." Oh boy. I take a long, hard drink of the wine. I have a feeling that before the night is over I'll probably be thoroughly intoxicated.


	7. Remake is hell

AN: Relatively short, but necessary. You get to meet Onyx here! He's one of my favorites. You can find the pictures of the cast on the link on my profile :) Loves! Lorinda xx

Disclaimer: I solemnly swear that I don't own this at all. Wait, wrong fandom...

Warnings: swearing, vomit, mentions of beauty torture

* * *

I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache accompanied by the pounding on the door and the sensation that something happened last night that I don't remember. I'm still in my clothes, so that's good. Ugh, those bastardly knocks.

"I'm coming, Margery!" I growl between my teeth, sure that if I open my mouth all the cotton that is surely in it will fall out. I (rather pathetically) pull apart the sweaty sheets that had glued to my skin, unfortunately hearing Margery's "No showers!" order. That's all I want in the world right now- a shower. And maybe a glass of water.

I go into automatic mode, pulling on a pair of black leggings, a purple tank top, silver sandals. As I walk into the hall, I hiss- every goddamn window in the world is open. It's so _bright_. At least the food smells good…

I'm about to step three feet away from the dining room, where miles of food have been laid out, when I hear the soft hiss that indicates a door opening. I look back to see Sage tip toe out of his room, the look of horror on his face at the brightness making me feel so much better about myself.

"Good morning, Sage." I chirp at him as he stands at my side, my voice annoying even to me. The look I am rewarded with is one that could kill puppies and make orphans cry. "Well, I was going to make sure to get you a hangover pill, but since you're handling this all so well…" His voice is deeper, and he doesn't even look like he's feeling any discomfort.

I gasp, deciding to be overly dramatic, "No, please, Sage, I beg you!" I fall to my knees, clasping my hands in front of me. He turns to look at me, and quirks an eyebrow. Deciding to be very, very evil, I give him a smolder, then lick my lips. Sage stumbles back, looking like I've impaled him, as I get off my knees, send a wink and traipse into the dining room.

"Good morning, Belle!" Lex crows at me, and don't get me wrong, I love the kid, but I would happily remove his tongue right now.

I grumble a barely passable "hey kid" before viciously gathering a bunch of food on my plates- three waffles, uncountable slices of bacon, a pear and a chocolate muffin. I start eating hurriedly because I am starving. However, one pear and half a chocolate muffin later, I realize this wasn't such a good idea as it comes back up.

I don't even make it to the bathroom. I throw up in a potted plant.

Gasping as I try to ascertain the horrid combination of pear and chocolate and stomach acid is gone, I realize someone is holding my hair back and rubbing my back. I also recognize deep, deep laughter.

I remove my head from the pot and turn to look over at my right side. Sitting there is Onyx Marsh, victor, beloved of the Capitol, and currently giving me hope that not every male is a laughing asshole *cough Sage cough*.

Onyx just looks at me for a moment before standing up and lending me a hand. He's often known as strong and silent type of victor, occasionally mocked as dumb. But as I look into those calculating grey eyes, I know he's not as dumb as he makes himself out to be.

"She must be a friend of yours, Sage. I'm pretty sure you even threw up in the same plant. Or was that Amara?" He yells over his shoulder, and I cringe. Onyx shoots me an apologetic look before ushering me into the sitting room, speaking to an Avox and then sitting in a chair opposite me. He stares at me for a moment, before extending a hand and introducing himself, "Onyx Marsh. Victor of the 53rd Hunger Games."

I shake his hand, introducing myself as, "Belle Dicen. Unwilling, desperate tribute and hopeful victor of the 81st Hunger Games." Onyx lets loose a huge belly laugh, waving at the Avox to approach him. The Avox, a young man with brown hair and brown eyes, hands him a pill which Onyx swallows dry. Then the Avox turns to me and holds out a pill and a glass of water. I eye him warily, when Onyx speaks up, "I asked Denny to get you a hangover pill. It'll take about thirty minutes to kick in and" he looks down at watch, "You leave for remake in five minutes. And trust me, kid, you're gonna need it."

Onyx is a god. Denny the Avox is a god. Sage is the devil himself, and the members of my prep team are his unholy minions, conjured specifically just to _annoy the hell out of me_. I've only been graced with their presence for ten minutes, having been in a car to get to the Remake Center for five, and I am truly annoyed.

"Oh, you're just so pretty!" screeches Clementine, who should be arrested for crimes against humanity because she's wearing every shade of orange humanly possible in the most horrid of ways. She tugs the brush through my hair, and I fight the curses that sit on my lips.

While I get my hair pulled, her teammates are taking care of my hands and feet, the words "Beauty Base Zero" escaping their mouths every so often. Cadmus, a huge, dark man with purple dreads and intensely sharp gold eyes is buffing my fingernails while Mada clips my toenails and gripes about my nonexistent bunions. I glance at the clock and moan when I see that I still have ten minutes to go until the pill kicks in. Gods help me.

I can tell the second the hangover pill seeps into my bloodstream; the nausea disappears, the lights don't seem so bright, and I don't want to murder the prep team as much. As I lay on a cold steel table, having every strand of hair removed from me (yes, I mean every _strand_) except for my head, I classify my prep team mentally. Clementine doesn't shut up to save her life, and speaks so quickly I couldn't understand what she said if I wanted to. Mada constantly complains, pulling at the pink feathers in her otherwise green hair.

Cadmus is my favorite, though, speaking only when necessary, and with a kind infliction when he does. As I look up closer at him, I see he has bronze tattoos on his dark skin. They swirl into random patterns, and I content myself with looking them as my body is plucked. I drift off as they slather my body in a thick, pale green cream. It stings at first, but then cools my skin. As the prep team starts scraping it off, I find myself drifting into sleep.


End file.
